Jupiter poem by Karen Hugdahl Meyer A boy dreams of outer space makes a rocket ship from a cardboard box. He is a small planet orbiting his sister— the sun at the centre of his universe. He asks how to spell Jupiter. She sounds the “J” j-j-jutting out her jaw draws a hook in the
“Acheron River” painting by Lily Jones acrylic, plaster, on canvas 48″ x 48″ Commentary In Greek mythology, the dead were ferried across the Acheron by the boatman, Charon, to the underworld. With “Acheron River”, I wanted to explore the relationship we have with these fantastical stories and how they are echoed in the present world
Tomato poem by Maia Nichols into some swamp land dream scape I trudged with a small wooden paddle and some grape juice for the morning, not looking back or harnessing any of the uncertainty that was collecting dust in my den back home, naïve yet with a slightly sour aftertaste, like the grapes growing on
“From the Top” photo by Gabrielle Lieberman Commentary This is from an intersection in San Francisco, California, when my cousin was giving a driving tour of the city. As we got to this stop I stood up from the back seat, fascinated at the steepness of the hill in front of us – and snapped
About Our Contributors Sam Becker is a fourth-year English Honours student who will probably be graduating soon. He has probably talked to you about William Blake and then tried to make a joke. Sarah Ens moved from small-town Manitoba to Vancouver in 2010 and is currently in her first year of the UBC Creative
Visual Art by Michelle Nguyen This series is a work of mixed media that combines photographs printed on acetate and paper collage. By constructing temporary and imaginary monuments within existing spaces, their purposes are to allow one to grasp a better understanding of the correlation between space and place. (click to enlarge images)
Herd poem by Kate Radford I have taken shelter from my kind among slow trees in the glen. Shaded from white cloud-light by waxy leaves – some spined, some smooth – layered in shades of green whittling the weak light to bright points of white. Underneath here is wind and the second-hand rain (a morning’s
Re-verseing Space/Creating Norma(lcy) essay by Daniel Swenson The 1950s exist in a space of contemporary thought that is stagnant and unchanging in time. The popular American images of poodle skirts, brylcreem, plastic bracelets and aviators reinforce and reward an image of gleaming surface. Heteropatriarchal gender roles were not just mere scripts that people noted
Keats’s “The Eve of St. Agnes”: A Consumerist Fantasy essay by Allison Birt Nineteenth century London witnessed an exponential increase in the number and variety of shops available to its citizens. Goods from Britain’s growing colonial empire and increasingly sophisticated manufacturing sector filled these shops with ready-made luxury items that were very popular among
forced feels poem by Emma Wilson peelings on the table must be brushed off with a quick hand and collected by the other. roughness of orange remnants must be scrubbed with equal roughness. calluses scrape the surface, fingernails knead dirt in the kitchen and the garden. * other fingers need my skin to trace the
“In Case of Emergency, Go Out to Sea” photo by Cyrus Sie Commentary Taken in Beirut, a reminder that sometimes the best plans are the simplest ones.
What is Possible poem by Michael Warne Close fall bark. Walking through the woods, I can’t help but wonder: do I make this much sound in the city? Door closing, keys falling, barking. I’m only now noticing the way couch potatoes grow eyes and roots, and how bookworms never crawl.
“Hug” painting by Brianna Klassen 2012 acrylic on wood Commentary Two figures locked in an embrace express the fear and acceptance of disconnection.
The Things Our Mouths Know poem by Jessica Vugteveen Samson met Delilah at a party, drunk on wine, after he’d pulled down a temple full of Philistines. He knew her name before he’d asked, another talent from the Lord, and the name opened like a flower on his tongue, De…lie…lah, the petals curling in his
Oysters poem by Tara Simonetta Slimy Slippery Sliding off the half shell into my uncle’s mouth “Tastes like watermelon,” he says As he throws the shell back onto the beach. Scrape Crash Oysters fall into the bucket Barnacles bursting Calcium grinding A knife through the shell “do you want the muscle?” Salty Watermelon of the